You and Me, Forever

Still In You [1]

Disclaimer: THIS DOES NOT BELONG TO ME.

This is a converted imagine off of Tumblr. All credit goes to owner/ writer.

This da link of the original imagine: https://shawnjpeg.tumblr.com/post/190885148240/still-into-you-1

Since this IS a converted story, there will be mistakes and names outta place. Please tell me if you see any in this part. Thank you!

***

Her clumsiness, she decides, might just be the death of her. Squealing tightly behind sealed lips, Camila Cabello's arm moves out to balance the box of gyozas in her hand. Simultaneously, she cranks up the opposite shoulder to keep her handbag from falling against the concrete of the footpath. When the box of who knows how many gyozas is once again secured tightly against her chest, Camila huffs, spiking with anger that her parents didn't wait for her (cause she, evidently, could really use some help.)

Confusion also fazes her as to why her parents didn't even offer to walk with her to the Mendes house, as they moved out of their home with smiles pushed up her face. As they left and she came in, Camila sighed, wanting to clean up before going over to the Mendes' for a family friends' gathering they were having. She was in no rush to make it there. Camila had already met all the people she wanted to meet.

Thus, she took her time meandering around her parent's house, sifting through the cupboards for baked goods. When she finally arrived at a delectable box of carby senbei, her mother called her, wondering what exactly was taking her daughter so long.

"Get the gyozas from the fridge and what're you doing?" Mrs Cabello questioned over the phone, voice filled with urgency and restlessness. Unable to answer, primarily because of the traditional rice cracker hanging from her mouth, Camila took the time to wonder why her mother was in such a rush. Usually, her mother could care less about these gatherings. However, she quickly supposed that Mrs Cabello might just care because she is really close to Karen Mendes.

But Mrs Mendes would understand why Camila is late. Afterall, Camila works for the older women. It was her who asked Camila to pick up a few extra items in her taste to make the house she was putting up for viewing appeal to a young couple. Stitched with perfection in her work of interior design, Camila spent an hour just inspecting the house and then another couple to pick up the perfect pieces. She also suggested a last minute switch of colours of the kitchen cabinets, which only cost her exhaustion.

Nevertheless, Mrs Mendes's dinner party was something not to pass up. It is her chance to bask in the warmth of nostalgia by meeting kind faces she grew up with. Avoiding the speculation weaving in her mind of why her mother was pushing her to come over quickly, Camila left the house with the requested items at hand.

Blessed with the short walk from the Cabello's to the Mendes, Camila could arrive in a short period of time.

The Toronto spring is reaching its heat, coasting through the wind and finding the warmest rays of sunlight and capturing them one by one. She definitely feels it through the silk of her navy blue shirt and how her feet feel a little hotter in her boots. It puts a smile on her face.

What doesn't put a smile on her face, however, is the long wait she is made to endure because no one would open the door. She could hear the dinner party clearly. It's space in the backyard let the voices float over and around the house, to the front door.

Groaning, she tucks a hand into her pocket and brings out her phone from her dark-denim bootcuts. Scrunching her nose as the big box of food goes to slip out of her grip, she calls her saviour. Her ears are met with giggles, first. "Hey, Camila!" comes the bubbly voice of Aaliyah Mendes, voice muffling in the loudness of their family friends chattering away.